


i slept in last night's clothes and tomorrow's dreams

by weasleyspotter



Series: 50 AUs Meme [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, F/M, SHIELD Academy, YES ANOTHER ROOMMATES AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-15 00:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3431267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weasleyspotter/pseuds/weasleyspotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jemma Simmons gets accepted into the Academy and gets her housing assignment, things aren't quite what they seem. </p>
<p>or Jemma, Grant, Skye and Fitz go to the Academy together and also live together and the shenanigans they get up to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i slept in last night's clothes and tomorrow's dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I finally posted another fic. Strangely (or not really) the fic that I promised is not one of them. However this is something that's been sitting in my word doc because I had no inspiration to finish it, and it felt like it warranted a really long fic, and I just didn't have the muse or the energy for that. 
> 
> Instead I polished it up a bit, and decided to make it a drabble series. I'd rather explore the themes of a Roommates AU. So here's the first bit. I don't really have much in mind for the rest, so please leave me prompts on my tumblr or in the comments below. If there's any interest and a lot of prompts, I can't promise I'll get to all of them, but hopefully we'll get some interesting drabbles out of this series?
> 
> Anyway, I know I've written Roommates AU before, but I wanted to experiment with the idea again, and I talked about it a few months ago and people were interested in the idea so here we go!

i.

When she considers applying for the Academy the first time, Jemma Simmons makes a joke out of it.

She is seventeen years old with a PhD, she expects the world to line up at her doorstep. Shield is low on her list of job opportunities.

But eventually it occurs to her that most of the world isn’t looking to hire child prodigies, and everyone expects her to do her own research.

And she simply isn’t ready.

So when she actually applies, she’s way past desperate.

It’s past the deadline, and she types away she can feel the panic seep into her words, but the agent who had showed up at her doorstep in lieu of a pamphlet comes to mind. His words echo in her head as she presses the submit button.

_“We could use more people like you, Simmons.”_

ii.

She’s so ecstatic when she gets in that she doesn’t think twice before accepting.

Her mother is furious, she never understood Jemma’s fascinations with academia, much less science. Her father is tentative, he understood Jemma’s passion for science, but he doesn’t understand Shield, and he merely stares at her blankly when she announces her plans. As her mother fumes beside him, he says delicately, “it all seems a bit dangerous, dear.”

But she pays them no attention; Shield is her opportunity to do more within the confines of an organization. She’s not ready to be on her own, not just yet. She likes order and structure and science.

As she boards a plane for the States, her mother sniffles into a hankie, and her father smiles down at her unsurely. “Do good, Jemmie,” he says finally, kissing her forehead softly.

iii.

There’s a perky blonde sitting at the front desk of the housing department, and it all feels very much like the college experience that Jemma had forgone with her accelerated academic courses.

(She is actually living in _dorms_ now.)

“Jemma Simmons,” Jemma says, struggling with the strap of the large duffle bag slung across her chest.

The blonde glances down at a sheet of paper, her finger skims down the list as she searched for Jemma’s name. “Simmons, Simmons,” she mutters under her breath. She points to one of the names, “Ah ha,” she says with triumph. “Jemma Simmons, building 25, apartment 2, room 3. Ohhh,” the blonde gives a sigh of jealousy. “You’re lucky?”

“What?” Jemma glances at the sheet, trying to understand what had made the blonde envious of her.

“That’s the new building,” the girl explains, eager to talk. “Your room is brand new.”

That is nice, Jemma thought. Her application for housing had been incredibly late, and it had been a sheer miracle that they had found a place for her, especially in a new dorm.

“Here’s your key,” the blonde hands her two keys, “and this is your mailbox key.”

“Thanks,” Jemma says, stuffing the keys into her pocket.

“No problem,” the girl says with a large smile. “Welcome to the Academy.”

iv.

When she reaches her room, her chest is heaving with excretion after lugging two suitcases up the stairs, and she sorely regrets not allowing her parents to help her move in. But she manages to carry all her stuff up in one go.

She stares at the plaque on the door.

Ward. Ward. Fitz. Simmons.

She pokes it lightly and discovers it’s actual metal. And she’s actually surprised that they would place metal placards with their names on them, but the names can slide out. She slides her name back into place, and places the key into the lock. She opens the door and looks inside.

Standing directly in her line of sight is a tall man with a towel slung low across his hips. His hair is slightly damp and there are droplets of water sliding down the expansion of his chest. Her eyes follow one of the droplets down the ripples of his muscles into his towel.

The thought is enough to shock her out of her stupor and she gives a small shriek and slams the door.

She glances at the plaque again, sure that she must have the wrong room, because there’s a man in her room parading around in only a towel.

Ward. Ward. Fitz. Simmons.

It’s the right room, she confirms. But who is the man?

The door opens, and the man is standing on the other side of it, looking down at her. He towers over her, and there’s a look of irritation in his eyes, that makes him even more intimidating.

“Can I help you?” He drawls out, sounding like the last thing he wants to do is help her.

“I’m Simmons,” she says meekly.

Instantly his expression clears. “Oh,” he says shortly. “Ward.” He says pointing to him. “Grant Ward.”

“Ward?” She asks, then she glances at the name on the door. “Wait you live here?”

“Yup,” he says stepping to the side. “Are you coming in?”

“You can’t live here.” Panic begins to rise in her chest.

His eyes narrow in confusion. “Uh, what?”

“You’re a boy.” She spits out.

“I know,” he nods along, a smirk playing on his face, like she said something amusing.

“We can’t live in the same room,” she gestures in between them.

“We aren’t,” he says, rolling his eyes. “We live in the same apartment, you have your own room.”

“But, but,” she sputters, trying to wrap her head around this new development. She can’t live with a boy. The only man she ever lived with was her father, and he is her father.

“Look,” the irritated expression returns to Ward’s face. “Are you going to come in or not? You can have your meltdown inside?’

“I’m not having a meltdown,” she squawks, but still she grabs her bags and stomps past him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, closing the door behind her.

She whirls around to face him, “Is this a mistake?” She asks him hopefully. Mistakes can be rectified. “The fact that we’re in the same room together.”

“It’s a co-ed dorm,” he explains, “It’s not a mistake.”

“Oh god,” she murmurs. She should have known her last minute housing arrangement was too good to be true.

“Look,” he takes a step towards her, palms outstretched, a nervous look on his face. “Calm down. If you don’t want to live here, that’s fine, just go talking to the housing coordinator. I’m sure he can switch you.”

“Oh,” Jemma sits up suddenly. “I’ll do that.” She nearly runs towards the door, then stops. She turns towards him slightly. “Can I leave my stuff?”

“Yeah,” he waves off.

But she doesn’t hear him, because she’s already out the door.

v.

Agent Sitwell loves buildings.

Jemma finds out this out after briefing announcing that she’s been assigned to building 25 and that launches a spur of the moment lecture on the brilliance of building 25 from Agent Sitwell.

“And thus,” he concludes, “it became apparent to us that allowing a space for students to mingle amongst academies was imperative. We wanted to foster an environment that was much like the environment of our field teams.”

“I understand that, Agent Sitwell.” She leans forward in her seat, using her most polite voice. “However, I am not really accustomed to living with other men, I hope you understand.”

Agent Sitwell raises an eyebrow at her. “I do understand, Simmons. However, I have one question for you. Do you wish to work on a Field team?”

She pauses for a moment. “I’m not sure yet, Sir.” She says honestly.

“Field teams are about adaptation, Simmons. You have to be able to flourish in uncomfortable circumstances. I believe this will be a good opportunity to put yourself out there.”

She closes her eyes. Sitwell wouldn’t not be convinced by logic or emotion. But, she ponders for a moment. When she was younger, her sister, Charlotte, was often able to convince people to do things for her with flirtation. And Jemma was always poor at it, but—

“Mr. Agent Sitwell, sir,” she begins nervously, trying to widen her eyes to mirror Charlotte’s doe-eyed look.

“Call me Jasper,” he says kindly.

She twirls a bit of hair around her finger. “You certainly have a gorgeous head, don’t you?”

Agent Sitwell gapes at her.

She winces internally, knows that she’s spiraling, knowing she should shut up, but she can’t stop. “I like men that are about my height, but heavier than me.”

“Simmons,” Agent Sitwell clears his throat. “Your request to switch rooms is impossible. And I strongly believe that this will be a good experience for you,” he eyes her up and down. “You are dismissed.”

vi.

When she gets back to the room, there’s another man in the living room with Grant Ward. His body is half hidden by a massive tv, and he is swearing profusely in a Scottish accent, his voice only slightly muffled by the black screen.

Grant is sitting on the couch, now wearing a pair of navy sweat pants and a light blue shirt, holding a cereal bowl close to his chest, and glaring at the TV as if trying to make it work by sheer will. He glances at her as she steps through the door.

The other man, a short brunette, peaks around the TV at her. “This the new one?” He directs at Grant.

“Yeah,” Grant says. “Fitz,” he directs at the man, “Simmons,” he glances at her. “Simmons, Fitz.”

The short man, named Fitz, stands up, dusts off his hands, and stretches one towards her. “Leopold Fitz,” he introduces himself. “But you can call me, Fitz.”

“Jemma Simmons,” she shakes his hand. “Jemma is fine.”

He nods, walking back to the TV, crouching behind it. “Ward tells us that you’re moving out.”

She shakes her head. “There’s no other room.” She tries not to sound too disappointed.

But she fails because both boys look at her with varying looks of pity. Fitz’s face drips with it, while Grant looks a bit more passive, but his eyes are surprisingly sympathetic.

“Sorry,” Fitz apologizes. “We wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so Skye and I already switched rooms. You’ll be sharing a bathroom with her.”

“Skye?” She questions.

Just then a brunette bounds into the room with a large smile. Her brown curls bounce around her, and her chocolate eyes sparkle with excitement. “Someone say my name?”

Grant sighs, “Simmons,” he looks at Skye. “This is my sister, Skye. Skye, this is Simmons.”

“Jemma,” Jemma corrects him, holding out her hand towards the eager brunette. In one moment, Skye bounds across the room and wraps Jemma up in a hug.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Skye screeches in Jemma’s ear. “I thought I was going to have to live with _boys_ , but now I have you.”

“Uh,” Jemma pulls back, shooting a look towards the boys who shrug unhelpfully. “Fantastic,” she offers weakly.

“I’m Skylar Ward.” She makes a face at the name Skylar. “But call me Skye, not Skylar or Ward. Academy of Communications, minor detail, got in because I’m a hacker,” Skye says, while making a shushing gesture. “Gonna be a field agent one day. What about you?”

“Uh,” Jemma stutters for a moment, overwhelmed by the influx of information. “Academy of Science and Technology. I have a PhD in biological sciences. I’m interested in BioChem, I suppose.”

“Oh,” Fitz shoots out from behind the TV. “I’m Academy of Science and Technology as well. I’m an engineer,” he explains.

“And grumpy pants over here,” Skye points at Grant, “he’s in Academy of Operations. A _Specialist_ ,” she rolls her eyes.

“Hey,” Grant scoffs over his cereal bowl. “They said they could use more people like me.”

Skye rolls her eyes again. “They told all of us that.”

Jemma feels a little spark dull within her. It had been stupid, but to hear that her sole motivation for applying for Shield had been everyone else’s was not exactly comforting.

“You’re probably exhausted,” Skye moves to help her with her stuff. “Come on, I’ll show you your room and maybe I can help you move in?”

Jemma considers brushing off the brunette, but it’s been a long day, and she just wants to curl up in her bed and forget everything. But Skye is staring at her with large brown eyes that seem to sparkle with excitement and so she sucks in her disappointment and smiles at the brunette.

“That would be lovely, thanks.”

Skye smiles back at her brilliantly. “Don’t worry,” she says with a toothy grin. “This is going to be fantastic, I just know it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and kudos if you enjoyed! Remember to leave me prompts in the comments if you wanna see more. Thanks so much guys!


End file.
